


Soliloquy

by Aphrodisium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mind Control, Team Voltron is NOT PLEASED, basically Lance is a slave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphrodisium/pseuds/Aphrodisium
Summary: Blue remembers very little of his past, but he knows two things with absolute certainty. One, the stories of Voltron give him hope. Two, somewhere among the stars, a white beach with azure tides wait for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> asdkjfaskjdasd i'm not sure if i'll keep writing this when season 2 comes out but i wrote like 20k of this already so i figured i'll share before the new season is out. aaah i'm so excited season 2!! :o

Sometimes, when Blue was asleep, he would dream of a never ending summer sky mirrored in an ocean that stretched farther than the eye can see. He dreamed of sunlight and white sand, hot and coarse between his naked toes. He didn’t know where these images came from or why it brought him such comfort, but he hated it when he waked to find the remnants of his shattered heart beating frantically in his chest, trails of tears running down his cheeks.

He only dreamed about different environments, the ones that he was certain he had never seen before. He was never allowed outside on his own. Master said he was too delicate.

_(He burned at the word delicate and something awful and dark curled in his chest. He was not delicate, never had been, but these were rebellious thoughts and if Master ever discovered them. Well.)_

“Tell me, Pet, what do you think about Voltron?” Master asked. Master was unusually vicious this evening, locking him into uncomfortable, impossible positions as he was whipped and hit, just to see how long it took for him to break, reduced to ugly sobs. Blue was resilient, but tonight had been hard. Blossoming bruises and painful welts littered his skin.

“Answer me, pet.”

Master enjoyed listening to Blue’s opinions on Voltron. Or rather, Master liked listening to his lack of opinions.

“Nothing,” Blue recited, quiet and exhausted as he was finally let out of the restraints. His voice cracked. “I think nothing of Voltron.”

Master smiled and pressed his fingers against Blue’s throat and Blue tilted his head back to let Master caress the pulse point there.

“Yes, you think nothing of it,” Master said. “Of course.” His smile grew bigger and he dug his sharp nails into Blue’s skin. Liquid red pooled and dripped, slow and viscous down his body. Blue fought back a whimper, but was unsuccessful.

A knock sounded at the door, heavy and urgent.

“What,” Master growled. His eyes flashed an angry vermillion before settling to its normal dull copper color.

The door opened and Asher strode into the room. His bright orange hair was wet, sticking to his dark gray skin, drips of water staining his colorful robe. A sweet scent accompanied him. Clearly, he was fresh out of the baths.

“Father,” he said. “There is a matter that requires your attention. It’s about the celebration for the Voltron Paladins tomorrow.”

Master scowled, displeased.

“What do I have you for, useless son,” Master snapped, but he released Blue’s neck and left in a flurry of robes.

Blue fell back against the bed with a soft sigh, pulling the sheets around himself tightly and shutting his eyes, running a hand over his bruised and bloodied neck. Asher was still there, watching his every move. It always made him feel oddly self-conscious and embarrassed with the way Asher’s eyes roamed over his body.

Finally, Asher sighed and shut the door with a backwards kick of his foot.

“I will take you from here, I swear,” Asher hissed, falling to Blue’s side. He smoothed warm, gentle hands over the bruises on Blue’s body, sliding fingers into Blue’s short brown hair, comforting and tender.

Blue liked Asher enough. Despite his naivety and ignorance, Blue liked the optimism and cheer that was contained within the large Tarfisian body, so at odds with their normally fierce expressions. He hoped that Asher could one day free him of being Master’s toy, but he knew it was an impossibility. For all the insults and depreciations that Master would hurl at Blue, the value he held Blue at was disproportionate to his words. Blue was Master’s grand prize, even if Master didn't like him all that much.

Asher knew it, just as Blue did. Master would not let Blue go easily.

Not to mention, Asher wouldn’t just free Blue--no, he wanted to be the one to _own_ Blue.

“Tomorrow, the Voltron Paladins will be coming for a celebration in their honor and the Tarfis Federation will declare itself part of its alliance. I want you to come with me,” said Asher. He paused, pitched his voice low and serious. “Come as mine. As consort.”

Blue keened, low and deep in his throat, because he wanted to go to the celebrations. But if he went with Asher, he knew the repercussions would be tantamount to the worst betrayal in the eyes of Tarfis law. At worst, Asher could go to prison for stealing property that didn't belong to him.

And Blue?

Blue would probably die, in the best case scenario.

_(Worst case scenario: he’d be sold as a toy to the Galra. He had no idea why the Galra Empire instilled such personal fear and rage within him. Perhaps something to do with his--pa--s--t...)_

“I know,” Asher whispered, stroking the crown of Blue’s head, the touch light as a feather. “I have a plan. The Voltron Paladins are said to be fair and kind; they’ll see Father for the monster he is. They’ll give us the justice that we both need.”

Blue stared at Asher, at the bright copper eyes that he inherited from his father. So filled with hope, naivety. Blue almost wanted to crush it.

“What if they don’t?” Blue whispered back, fearful, his voice rough and throat raw. “What if Master catches us? We will both be punished.”

Asher smiled. “That’s the plan.”

“To get caught?” Blue nearly smashed their foreheads together when he sat up. Ludicrous. Insanity. A stupid plan.

_(And he knew something of stupid plans, didn’t he? He used to be full of them, glorious, triumphant, silly plans.)_

“Yes. That will expose Father’s true character,” said Asher. “Either they will force Father to repent for his ways or they will lock Father away in a cell to rot forever.” The smile on his face widened. “And then we will be free from his tyranny. And after, perhaps, I can rightfully make you mine.”

Blue felt his gaze on Asher soften; it was difficult to dislike Master’s son, not when he dreamed of something so benign.

He wished very badly to see the Voltron Paladins. He could lie about his opinions to Master, but in his heart of hearts, Blue cared greatly about Voltron. The stories of the legendary heroes gave him hope. Hope that one day, he could overthrow the chains of oppression and leave this household.

Blue wished he was brave. He wished for peace of mind, away from all masters. He wished to see the scene of his dreams, the endless horizon from a sandy white beach. He craved a freedom that he had never tasted, but knew to the very depths of him that he had it, once upon a time.

“I’m scared this will not turn out how you imagine it to be,” Blue said. A warning.

“It will,” Asher replied, conviction written in the lines of his jaws, in the set of his shoulders. “I’ll send for you. Be prepared.”

Asher pressed his cheek to Blue’s, the affectionate action quick and discreet. He straightened himself to his full height and without casting a look back, he walked from the room, leaving Blue confused and terrified.

#  **\--**

When Master departed in the morning, he was sitting within a beautiful, jet black palanquin, carried by his strongest, worthiest slaves. Nearly everyone in the household had been in attendance to see Master off in the morning, including Blue.

“Prepare yourself for my return,” Master said to Blue, mouth set into a sharp grin.

Blue shivered, wondering if it was pain or pleasure or even both that Master desired later, but schooled himself into an obediently blank mask when Master left. The household dispersed, each of them with their own lists of tasks to do in the interim. Most of them were friendly to Blue, but were too scared of Master to be seen with him, which made for an utter surprise when Ahna scurried after him when he turned to return to his room.

“Master Asher instructs me to bring you to his chambers,” she said.

Ahna was short, wispy, with dark scales framing her eyes, and two sets of curling horns that have been cut and blunted atop her head. She was Asher’s slave and bed companion of choice. Blue was always surprised that she harbored him no grudge; he had, after all, somehow stolen her spot as her master’s top favorite despite not even belonging to him. But she, like Asher, was optimistic and sunny.

She took him by the hand and with discrete looks over her shoulder, brought him to the less decorated wing in which Asher and his slaves resided.

There was already a flurry of activity there, as the master of the house had left and Asher, as the only son and heir, was expected to join him shortly. All of Asher’s favorites were there, buzzing about his person as they set his hair into complicated plaits, helping him don the heavy formal robes of state. One of them was tasked with the frustrating role of painting Asher’s face, who looked to be two ticks away from bursting out into laughter.

“He’s here!” Ahna declared.

“Quick, strip!” A tall, lithe slave by the name of Garn was already plucking the clothes off of Blue’s body.

Blue was manhandled out of his clothes and into new ones, ones that he was aware that Asher chose specifically for this occasion. For him.

He was trussed up into robes of white that fell in a way that revealed the knobs of his collarbones and accentuated the curve of his spine. His arms were bared, as were his legs, and Blue couldn’t believe Asher wanted him to wear this. It afforded little decency; he could hardly bend without revealing his rump for anyone to see.

“You have lovely legs,” Garn said, as if reading Blue’s mind. “This is your chance to show off.”

“If everything goes sideways, this will probably be the last day that I will have legs,” Blue responded, tugging at the hem of the robe. He did not actually want to show his legs. A long time ago, he had a light coating of hair upon his limbs, torso, and groin, but it had all been surgically burned away. His arms and legs were now smooth and soft. Master liked his legs, liked the feel of them without the hair.

A great many other people liked his legs too.

“Don’t be so negative,” Asher admonished as the slave that was painting his face shrieked indignantly. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

“Master, stop talking or you will walk to the celebrations looking like a fool.”

Asher shut his mouth, but sent Blue a knowing look.

Blue sighed and let Garn lace up the new sandals on his feet. He was also given golden armbands and other embellishments, each more lavish than the last, clasping around his limbs like gilded shackles. A golden head chain was laid upon his crown, the dangling jewels placed with calculated care. His bare skin was painted too into intricate patterns by Ahna and another slave named Kerr, disguising and covering the bruises and lacerations that marred his body.

The final piece was a veil, white as a star and reaching just below his chin, but sheer enough for him to see through. At the very ends of it, weighted opaque crystals of blue were sewn into it to prevent the veil from flying off.

It was customary for consorts to be displayed; they were the prizes that had been won and showed off their husbands or wives’ power or standing. Blue had seen consorts wear headdresses that were so complicated that it took the better part of a day to put on. There were also some that had their own retinue of slaves just to help them move, so adorned with flashing ornamentations that it was all it took for them to stand upright.

Blue could still move and supposed that despite the questionable taste in dress form, he should thank his lucky stars that Asher didn’t force him into something heavy and cumbersome. He already jangled with every minute movement, all the jewels and precious stones on his body clinking together.

“Beautiful.”

Blue looked to Asher, who smiled.

“He is divine,” Garn agreed. He glanced at the clock and grimaced. “Master, you must hurry.”

Asher nodded. “Yes, bring the transport around. We’ll take that.”

Blue looked down at his feet. He didn’t want to go. He would be recognized instantly and then both he and Asher would be punished for their transgressions. He, even moreso, especially since he was not the General Segundo’s son.

Yet, Asher was willing to create a chance for him and he would be foolish not to take it. He had wished to be brave. This was it, if anything.

_(Sometimes, he’d dream of a sea of stars and a giant cat that purred into his mind. They had dangerous adventures together, but in those dreams, Blue was courageous to the point of stupidity. And that was very, very troubling because that meant he forgot how to be brave.)_

Blue took a breath, even when all his nerves were screaming at him not to go. This was going to end badly.

He had to go. Take this chance.

For the horizon that haunted his dreams, for the freedom that sang in his blood.

“Master Asher,” Blue said, voice calmer than he felt, watching the pleased grin bloom across Asher’s face at the name. “We do not want to be later than we already are.”

#  **\--**

The transport got them to the capitol’s amphitheater quickly. Along the way, Blue was certain that he caught sight of another transport that no doubt held the Voltron Paladins. It was highly decorated and protected by a legion of armed soldiers.

“We’ll be fine,” Asher reassured him for the umpteenth time. The closer they got to the amphitheater, where the celebrations were supposed to be held, the less Asher smiled. A frown marred his face and a furrow appeared in his brow.

Blue had no idea how he looked, but he imagined the word distressed could be used. He wrung his hands and nearly smeared the paint upon them, but he remembered and instead, transferred his worry to the cushioned seats, kneading them with distracted fingers.

They arrived, just as loud cheers and thunderous applause echoed through the air.

Asher took his hand and rushed them through the back door, down the winding maze of hallways, to the stands where the powerful and rich were gathered to host the celebration of the Voltron Alliance.

Slaves of all kind were hustling and bustling behind the scenes, moving quickly to get meals and drinks in order. A harried looking overseer didn’t even spare Asher and Blue a second glance when they crossed paths. Performers stretched on the precipice, ready for their cue.

Out on the grounds, Blue saw that the Voltron Paladins had arrived. There were five of them, plus a retainer, totaling six in all. They were walking towards the high table, where they had seats as the guests of honor. What struck Blue by surprise was the odd feeling of almost-recognition, like he’d seen these strangers before, somewhere.

“Welcome!”

The booming voice belonged to the General Primero, the high electorate that presided over the council, the most powerful person of the Tarfis-Nebulae Federation. He, like all Tarfisians, was spindly and tall. Unlike the rest of them, however, he was of a massive bulk in his torso and towered over a great many people and he had a special table set out just for him. The attendants around him looked like miniatures, even when they were all a head taller than Blue.

“We are honored to be here, General,” the head of the Voltron procession said. That was Princess Allura. Her hair was curiously without color and swept into a high bun that sat atop her head.

Contrasting the splendor of the Tarfisians and their consorts, the Voltron Paladins wore their armor, completely unadorned by any sort of medals or decorations. Simple, as they were but the remnants of a long-lost civilization, and effective, as it reminded everyone that they were warriors first and foremost.

It was then that Asher pulled Blue with him, strutting out onto the grounds towards the empty seat across the way next to Master. It was bold, insulting in all ways as it took the attention off their guests, and reeked of childish rebellion, an unwisely planned course of action.

An immediate hush fell over the Tarfisian crowd and the Voltron Paladins turned to regard them. None of them looked particularly pleased and it was now that Blue began to doubt, the already apprehensive knot in his gut multiplying tenfold.

It was hearsay that the Voltron Paladins were friendly, kind people; they were the only thing standing between the Galra Empire and the free universe. They had to have some degree of cruelty within them, something to push them to fight just as viciously as the Galra. They were only five, the fighters at the forefront of the war. The Galra Empire might as well have been infinite in comparison to these warriors and still, here they stood, alive and whole and very much still fighting.

What if they sided with Master? What if they personally executed Asher and Blue themselves for this transgression?

Yet, Asher was nothing but confident as he moved, Blue’s hand held aloft by his own.

“Many apologies,” said Asher. “We are late.” He bowed his head first to Princess Allura, the other Paladins, and then to the General Primero. Blue mirrored his actions, doing his best to not drop the veil to the ground as he did. It slipped, the sudden shifting of gravity moving it around, though he managed to correct himself before it fully fell off his head.

Princess Allura smiled, but the rest of the Paladins hardly looked impressed. If anything, Blue would say they simply looked disgusted. They must attend many of these kinds of functions, had probably seen more impressive civilizations. Tarfis must seem like such a backwater planet compared the the rest of the universe.

Besides, the Paladins already had such a huge responsibility, why would they spare a thought for Asher, the son of General Segundo, and most of all, why would they spare a thought for Blue, a slave and pet of General Segundo? Asher and Blue were nothing in the grand scheme of things. They were unimportant at best.

But here they were.

Blue glanced at the rest of the council, saw the drawn, furious faces.

“Boy!” Master called, tone a controlled rage. “Get over here!” Behind him stood many guards, who would undoubtedly be told to take Blue away and there was nothing that Blue could do but follow Asher’s lead and hope for the best. He couldn’t find it in himself to speak, to plead for annexation with the Voltron Paladins.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want to die.

Blue wished he could be braver.

_(If wishes could be fishes. Or was it the other way around? Who told him this saying to begin with?)_

Asher started to lead Blue towards Master’s table, but was intercepted by the Green Paladin.

“Wait.”

She was small and compact, shorter than the other Paladins, but her battle suit did nothing to hide her wiry strength. If she weren’t a Paladin, Blue had no doubt in his mind that the rest of the Tarfisians would have been stumbling hands over feet to woo her. Her shape was one that the Tarfisian society admired, particularly in their mates.

“Pidge, don’t be rude,” one of the other Paladins muttered, but Blue didn’t see who it was.

The Green Paladin was staring at Blue’s exposed legs, face set into a grimace. Specifically, she was staring at his feet and his knees. It made Blue want to hide.

“I’m not a biologist, but I haven’t traveled the universe for nothing,” she said. “What species are you?”

The Black Paladin glared at her. “Pidge!”

_(Pidge. Pidge! PIDGE.)_

“You have fine eyes. My consort is a rare specimen; his kind has never been spotted in any of the galactic markets,” Asher said, mistaking her curiosity for interest of a different kind. Blue knew better, saw the thinly hidden disgust at the word _market_ on the Green Paladin’s face, but kept his mouth shut. Perhaps his punishment would be less if he didn’t speak up here.

From the corner of his eye, Blue saw Master getting up from his seat, nodding to the guards behind him. Instead of coming down to join in the rest of the foray, he abruptly left, not even bothering to disguise his haste. Few noticed him leaving, too busy watching Asher parade Blue around like an ill-gotten prize.

“Voltron Paladins,” the General Primero called, “excuse the young one. He knows nothing of customs and civility. He should be in his seat.” He glared at Asher, who easily ignored him. “Slave, take him to his seat!” The General Primero growled down at Blue.

It was terrifying having that kind of attention on him and he hastily made to obey, tugging Asher with him.

“Please, Master Asher,” he said, but the Green Paladin reached out and snagged his other arm.

“Is this paint?” she asked, digging her thumb into his skin to scratch off flakes of paint.

Next to him, Asher had gone rigid. “Unhand him,” Asher snapped, slapping the Green Paladin’s hand away from Blue. Then, his face turned just as pale as his namesake. “I am sorry, I did not mean to--”

Blue tugged Asher away, giving the Voltron Paladins a small nod as he departed, settling Asher into Master’s vacated seat. The Green Paladin’s eyes followed them all the way over to the table, watchful and vigilant.

“Where did my father go?” Asher muttered under his breath after he had a moment of brief silence.

Blue didn’t dare answer, not with the way the whole council’s eyes were focused on them. As consort, he would have taken the empty seat that was intended for Asher, at the right side to his father, but he had already been called out as a slave. He didn’t dare pull out the other seat for himself despite the hopeful glance Asher sent his way.

Princess Allura cleared her throat. “I apologize for our Paladin,” she said, speaking to the General Primero. “Some of us are not...the most well behaved.” She glared at the Green Paladin, who completely ignored her in favor of whispering something to the Yellow Paladin.

“I must apologize as well, on behalf of the General Segundo and his progeny,” said General Primero. Though his tone was light, Blue knew consequences were coming, at least, once the Voltron Paladins were gone. There was no need to make a fuss when there were guests in their presence.

Not to mention, this was neither the time nor place.

“But nevermind that; come, take a seat! This is a celebration in honor of our alliance! Today, we shall all feast like the kings of old!” The General Primero waved at the table that was set up for the Votron Paladins and one by one, they filed up the short steps to the high table and sat down.

Princess Allura sat in the middle, bracketed by the Black Paladin and her retainer. Next to the Black Paladin sat the Red Paladin. The Yellow and Green Paladins took the other side of the table next to the retainer with the Green Paladin on the very edge of the table.

She was staring very hard at Blue. From next to her, the Yellow Paladin also stared, though less overtly.

Food and drink were called in shortly after the guests of honor were seated, and when plates and glasses were filled, the entertainment was called in.

Drum beats started. Music filled the air. Though it was still day, complicated illumitechnics flooded the sky and against all odds, painted the rusty red of the atmosphere a vibrant blue. Performers danced into the amphitheater, in between the tables and the chairs, before coming to a stop at the space before the high table. There, they bowed, respectful and demure, before launching into a traditional Tarfisian dance.

Blue stood as still as he could, just the right pace away from Asher. Not too close to be a bother, but not far enough away where if Asher wished, he could reach over to touch. There were others that stood in the same way Blue did, although some of the more well-loved slaves had already been pulled to their master’s side, being indulgently fed scraps of food from their master’s plate.

Blue should have been hungry. The night before had left him tired and hollowed out and he had eaten little for dinner and this morning he had skipped breakfast entirely, though by accident. Instead of hungry, Blue only felt queasy.

It was the waiting for the punishment to come. Anxiety gnawed at his gut, swallowing any other feelings or emotions he might have.

An arm wrapped around his waist to pull him into Asher’s lap. Asher smiled down at him, expression fond.

“Sweetmuro?” He held up a small morsel of meat in his fingers for Blue to take.

Blue had no appetite, but it would have been an even greater insult to reject Asher’s offer of food. It would have been seen as a slight against the masters. He couldn’t have that.

“How should I eat?” Blue asked.

Asher laughed. “With your mouth. You have permission to remove the veil.”

Blue lifted the veil from his head, pulling it into his lap with delicate care. Asher lifted the morsel of sugared meat to his lips and Blue took it from his fingers with his teeth. He chewed, slowly, watching Asher’s face, watching his expression.

Asher was delighted.

This wasn’t one of those secret afternoon snacks where he fed Blue little scraps in the kitchen; this was a very public, very important function. And without Master here to berate him, Asher probably felt that he was essentially Blue’s owner for the time being.

It was very clear that Asher was enjoying this far more than he should. He wasn’t even thinking of any penalties or retributions that might occur later. His father’s position had afforded him a way of living where consequences were hardly of significance, barely an afterthought.

_(Coddled, spoiled. A pampered, oblivious fool.)_

Blue had never hated Asher more in this moment.

Master was cruel, but Asher, in his own way, was much more cruel with his ignorance. Blue almost wished that Master was here instead of Asher. At least then he knew that the intentions behind every action was simply empty malice and not misplaced kindness.

“More?” Asher held another piece to Blue’s lips. “You must be hungry. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

His stomach was roiling and the rising pressure in the back of his head pounded with the beat of the drums. When will this farce be over with? Blue took the next piece with no protest, his mouth moving automatically to chew.

A loud sound of glass shattering over the music drew Blue’s attention back to the high table.

It was the Yellow Paladin, the delicate flute glass that was once in his hand was pulverised into a thousand shards on the table. They winked in concert with the lights, wet and gleaming.

The Yellow Paladin was staring at Blue, eyes wide, tension vibrating off of every muscle in his giant frame.

Blue scrambled for the veil in his lap, not liking at all the looks that were being sent his way.

It occurred to him now, perhaps this was why Master had turned tail and run, leaving probably the most important function of his entire career. Master knew something that he hadn’t told anyone.

“They covet you,” Asher hissed, eyes flashing red, the arm around Blue’s waist tightening possessively.

Blue wasn’t sure if covet was the word to use, but they definitely wanted something from him.

This was all wrong, not at all what Blue had imagined. He wanted his freedom, a future that didn’t involve four walls closing in on him, and yet, when he looked at the Voltron Paladins, that was all he saw. They couldn’t liberate him any more than Asher could have. He knew that now with a startling clarity.

Several things happened at once, all out of Blue’s control.

The Yellow Paladin charged towards Blue, yelling something incomprehensibly as he pushed through the performers. Asher had stood, toppling his seat over and shoved Blue behind him, baring his second set of teeth in warning.

From behind, the General Primero’s elite guards stepped up, forming a barricade between the Yellow Paladin and Blue. It didn’t slip the General Primero’s awareness that the Paladins had focused their attentions on Blue earlier; the silent guards had been lurking on the edge, just out of focus to blend with their surroundings.

The music continued even when the performers didn’t. There was a deafening silence from the audience in attendance.

“If you are so enamored with the slave, perhaps we can entreat you to a trip to the bagnio,” the booming voice of the General Primero sounded over the music. It was terse and irate, bordering on offended.

“What have you done?” Princess Allura demanded, rising from her seat. Her mouth was turned into a frown and she glared harshly at the General Primero. “What is the meaning of this?”

The General Primero got to his feet, pulling himself to his full height. “One would think that the famed Voltron Paladins have come here to throw Tarfisian hospitality back in their faces. Should I remind you, you were the ones to come to us with the overtures of an alliance.”

“We came to you because you asked us for help,” the Princess all but snarled. “And should I remind _you_ , if we hadn’t been in this quadrant of the galaxy, your planet would have been overtaken by the Galra Empire.”

The General Primero growled, baring his teeth. The rest of the council in the audience were also on their feet now, each of their personal guards at the ready. What was supposed to be a peaceful, harmonious lunch gathering to celebrate a new alliance had so easily gone sour. The headache that was building at the back of Blue’s head was now at the forefront of his mind, pounding at his skull in an irregular beat.

The rest of the Voltron Paladins had also gotten up. Though they haven’t drawn their weapons yet, Blue can tell from their postures that they were just moments from pulling them out.

( _Bayards. They were called bayards._ )

Before he could react, the veil was snatched off his face by nimble fingers.

Asher swirled around, nearly knocking Blue off his feet. Several of the guards turned as well, but the majority of them stayed their positions.

It was the Green Paladin, her expression schooled into one of righteous fury. Crumpled in her fist was the white veil that had just been on his head. Blue glanced back over to the high table where the very double of her still stood.

“Hologram,” she said way of in explanation. Then her expression softened a fraction, so minute that Blue wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not. “This was where you’ve been. This whole time.”

“You speak familiarly with him,” Asher hissed, sharp and angry. “He is not yours to speak with.”

The Green Paladin’s lips curled back into a sneer. “You’re his master,” she observed. “You don’t even know who he is.” Her eyes refocused on Blue for a moment. “ _He_ doesn’t even know who he is.”

“Is that so?”

Blue startled at the voice that joined them. It was the General Primero, followed over by the rest of the Voltron Paladins.

“Slave, come forward.”

“He--”

“Belongs to your father, who is mysteriously absent from this fracas, despite arriving here earlier in the day. I recognize him,” the General Primero interrupted Asher, impatient. “Move aside. I was not talking to you.”

He stared down at Blue, giant and intimidating, reaching out with a hand as he waited for Blue to come forth. Next to him stood Princess Allura, her brows knitted together into a deep frown. Her eyes were crystalline in color, a blue like the ocean from Blue’s dreams, with flecks of pink within. Whereas the General Primero was intimidating, Princess Allura was terrifying.

Every step that Blue took forward, his stomach threatened to rebel. He swallowed down his fear and nervousness and prostrated himself on the ground before the General Primero.

“Stand.”

He obeyed, getting to his feet.

This was it; this was where he would be cuffed and taken back to the markets, auctioned off to the highest bidder. Maybe this time, he’d be sent to do manual labor instead of warming a bed. Or maybe they’d execute him and be done with it. Possibilities ran through his head, each more terrifying than the other.

“It’s him!” the Yellow Paladin yelled, straining to move forward, but the Red Paladin held him back.

“They’ll gut you if you try to touch him right now,” the Red Paladin hissed, glaring at the guards.

Princess Allura stepped forward and before Blue could pull away, she had taken both of his hands in hers. The guards at attention tensed, but the General Primero waved them down. Princess Allura’s voice, when she spoke, was gentle and soft, completely belying the somber, strange situation they had all found themselves embroiled in.

“What is your name?”

“Blue,” he said.

She smiled, blinking as her eyes began to water.

“Very fitting,” she replied. “Have you always...been a slave?”

Before entering the General Segundo’s household, he had been at a bagnio, a mid-level whorehouse. Before that, he had been rotting in a cell somewhere, days spent in agonizing pain as his body rebelled for no reason Blue could discern. There had been days where he could hardly move, split between waking lucidity and blank unconsciousness.

But he supposed, he had not always been a slave. He must have been captured and taken from a home, even if he could not remember what that home was.

However, he did remember very clearly being shuffled from a cell to the auction in which the bagnio’s Messer bought and collared him. That was when he truly became a slave. Up until then, he had just been a prisoner with a thin, meager hope for absolution.

“No,” he said.

“Where were you before you came here?”

“The Magna bagnio. Before that, Galactic Gulag Camp 23.”

The Princess’s eyebrows went up to her hairline. “Do you remember anything before that?”

Blue shook his head. “No.” Anything before then was a mystery to him. He had assumed his captors at the Gulag had ripped his memories, as well as any hints about his true identity from him.

“We have searched for three years,” Princess Allura whispered, her voice strong and steady even as her eyes turned glassy. “All across the universe. We never gave up hope that you’d return to us.”

Blue swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. He had known the Voltron Paladins in the past, was apparently well acquainted with them. He needed to sit down.

“He will come with us,” Princess Allura declared. Her fingers squeezed down on Blue’s and through it, he felt the tiny tremors coursing through her body.

“Regardless of who he used to be, he was still bought and purchased legally in the eyes of the law,” the General Primero said. “He cannot go with you unless his master gives him permission or if he is a freed person.”

“I hate this planet,” Blue heard the Green Paladin grumble.

“Then I will speak with his master,” Princess Allura snapped, furious. “I will speak with everyone that needs to be spoken with and do what needs to be done. But we are taking him home and you cannot stop us.” Her hand started dwarfing Blue’s, though the grip she had on them remained the same, and it was then that Blue realized that Alteans were shapeshifters.

She was growing, not as large as the General Primero, but she became taller than Asher, standing at least two heads higher than Blue. Her clothes shifted with her, realigning itself to her new body with ease.

The General Primero raised a hand to his brow and sighed. “This is becoming a farce,” he growled. “I am not sure that Tarfis can work together with the Voltron Alliance, not after this. You come here to disregard our laws and customs, look down upon our centuries of tradition, and now you demand a slave that does not, by all means, belong to you. This day has been insult after insult to us, Princess.”

“We are more than willing to leave,” the Green Paladin said, but was quickly silenced by the Black Paladin, who slapped a hand over her mouth.

The General Primero ignored the Green Paladin and gestured to one of the attendants. “Go find the General Segundo. You lot, come with me.”

They were escorted into an assembly hall across the street from the amphitheater. It afforded more privacy, though Blue was surprised at the amount of people that had followed them over. The General Tercero and Elector Menor came along with an entourage of soldiers.

Blue was led into a small conference room with the Voltron Paladins. Outside, soldiers guarded the door as the Tarfisians left to convene amongst themselves. Asher went with them, his expression thunderous.

Blue stood near the entrance, not knowing what to do with himself. The Voltron Paladins didn’t seem to know what to do either, each of them sporting various degrees of shock as they stared at Blue. The Green and Red Paladin held the hands of the Yellow Paladin in a tight grip, as a means of support and as a means of restraint for all of them.

It was Princess Allura that rose to the occasion of speaking to Blue. She drew him to her side and then gestured for her retainer.

“Coran,” the Princess called. “Do you have it?”

The retainer, a mustachioed man with flaming red hair, stepped forward with a holopad. “I hope this elucidates some things for you, young man,” he said, not unkindly. He turned it on and flipped through it, eventually coming to a stop at an image.

It was Blue in the picture.

But it wasn’t just Blue; it was the whole team of Voltron, though it was clear that the image was from several years ago. Blue in the picture was wearing the paladin armor, his arms swung around the necks of the Yellow and Red Paladins, the biggest, happiest grin practically splitting his face in two. Their hairs were sweaty and messy, but there was a genuine joy in all their expressions.

The retainer, Coran, swiped to another image.

This one was also of Blue, though he had clambered on top of the Yellow Paladin’s shoulders, arm outstretched in a cocky pose. On the other side of the picture was the Black Paladin, carrying the smaller form of the Green Paladin. It looked like they were in a midst of a game of sorts, all of them wearing casual attire.

The last picture was a wanted poster. Dead or alive, it declared in large, bold font across the top. There was a fuzzy image of Blue, taken from a security feed, holding onto a blaster colored white and blue. Below, the price for him alive was listed at ten billion GAC. Dead, he was worth a third of the price. His identity was written as: Voltron Pilot, Blue Paladin.

“This is you,” she said softly. “You were-- _are_ \--one of us.”

_(His blood was singing, heartbeat racing; Blue was his name, Blue was his first breath of the morning and the last thought when he slept. Did he dare believe it? Yes, yes he did. Voltron rang loud in his mind, rattling in his skull. This was true. He knew it.)_

Blue exhaled, the air coming out slow and stuttered. There were so many facts floating in his head, so many things to absorb, and yet he didn’t feel overwhelmed. He was just numb.

For the first time this whole afternoon, he opened his mouth and spoke to them.

“Master won’t let me leave easily.”

A fist connected with the long conference table. “We’ll take you whether they like it or not.”

It was the Red Paladin that spoke.

Blue looked over at him, a long-forgotten name on the tip of his tongue, bumbling forward from the mists of his mind, but unable to come to fruition. Instead, he hung on to the strange, contradictory feeling of annoyance and fondness that surfaced in his chest.

“What if I don’t want to go with you?” he asked.

His question was met with silence. Then, the Red Paladin spoke again, this time in outrage. “How can you not want to come with us? You’re treated here like a...a decorated whore!” He gestured to the trinkets, the paint on Blue’s body.

The Black Paladin held up a hand and the Red Paladin stilled.

“We would respect your decision,” he said. His voice was smooth, cadence pleasing, and not as distressing as Blue had made it out to be in his head. “But I would strongly recommend that you think on your decision after you’ve been given all the facts to make the choice that you think is best for you. I would ask that you come with us of your free will.” He smiled, startlingly earnest.

Blue returned it with his own watery smile.

He was well aware of the fact that the guards stationed outside had ears, that if questioned, they would no doubt give Blue up quick and easy. But he had to say this before the other Tarfisians came back, the words welling up at the back of his throat like an eagre.

_(If wishes were fishes. It was time to be brave.)_

“I want to come with you,” he whispered, his chest feeling heavy as if a boulder had been placed upon it. He would cry if the wells of his soul wasn’t already so used up. His voice was quiet, but unwavering as he spoke, stronger than he thought he could have mustered. “I want my freedom.”


	2. Chapter 2

Asher was sullen when Blue and the Voltron Paladins were escorted to the large hall in which the other Tarfisians had gathered. 

The General Primero gestured for everyone to sit at the table and for a moment, Blue was about to pull out a chair and sit as well. It was the piercing look of the General Tercero that stilled his movements and he shrank away as if scalded. 

“A disobedient, troublemaking slave,” the General Tercero sniffed. While his words were about Blue, his statement was directed to Asher, who growled and bared his fangs in an ineffectual move of defiance. 

“Sit with me,” Princess Allura said, noticing Blue’s dilemma and gesturing to the empty seat next to her. 

“Blue!” Asher all but snarled at the Princess’s words, possessiveness and irritation laced throughout his voice. Then, his expression softened as he realized his error and he held out a hand, speaking in a gentler tone: “Blue. Come here.” 

Blue didn’t miss the angry, betrayed glares that were directed at him as he went to Asher’s side. He understood that the Paladins wanted him to stay with them, to stand with them, symbolic gesture and all. But he knew the Tarfisians too well; he was not just a pet of the General Segundo’s household for nothing. Displays of power and dominance prevailed throughout Tarfisian civilization and society, from the clear, rigid caste system right down to the fashion trends of the population, Blue knew that if he defied Asher here, it didn’t matter if Asher forgave him later or not--it’d be seen as a slight against all Tarfisians.

He stood behind Asher’s seat, eyes averted in a show of submission. 

Asher’s hand came to rest on his wrist, a smile dancing upon his thin lips as he stroked the bare expanse of Blue’s arm with his fingers, claws scraping gently against his skin. 

“Father is gone,” Asher said, a vicious, vindictive delight emanating from behind those words. “You’re mine now.” The haphazard, stupid,  _ dangerous _ plan that Asher had set into motion had worked in his favor. 

Blue tried very hard to keep his posture relaxed, to not stiffen at the words; prying his ownership from the General Segundo’s hands would have been incredibly difficult, but Asher? Asking Asher to give him up would be impossible, especially as he had finally obtained what he had been after for so long. 

The General Primero sighed as he turned towards the Voltron Paladins. 

“This has become a very sticky situation,” he said. “This slave’s Master, a pillar of our Triumvirate, has fled his home. Questions of the slave’s identity and history cannot be answered sufficiently at this time, but--” Half of the Paladins looked ready for violence. The General Primero continued, ignoring the upset Paladins. “This course of action taken by the General Segundo is suspicious and suspect. A hunt for him has been issued. As per Tarfisian law, fugitives forfeit their rights and possessions and all are inherited by the next of kin.” 

Asher sneered at the Paladins. “He is mine.” His eyes flashed deep vermillion. 

“As we feel that an alliance cannot be formed between us, we hope instead to strike a deal that would benefit the both of us,” said the General Primero. 

Princess Allura glared, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What do you propose?” she asked.

“For the slave that you’re interested in, his new master has put forth the prerequisites of his sale: unconditional protection from the Galra Empire. A guarantee that our way of life will be uncontested,” the General Tercero said. Then, his eyes fell to the Green Paladin. “And a replacement of equal value to the slave that you would take from Tarfis.” 

Princess Allura jumped to her feet. “No,” she snapped. “We cannot agree to those terms. How can you still cling to this way of life, enslaving others? This makes you no better than the Galra!” 

The Tarfisians were hardly impressed at her outburst. “It is true that we share some aspects of our civilization with the Galra Empire,” the General Primero said. “But we do not condone the brutality of slave fighting, neither do we support the mass killings and genocide of entire planets. We prefer peace among species. But of course, we are not without our own defenses.” 

He glared at the Red Paladin, who glared back, murderous. 

They were at an impasse. 

The tension was thick and palpable, enough that it could be sliced through with a knife. Blue did his best to hide his dying hope as Asher took his hand, firm and covetous. 

Asher smiled, bringing Blue’s limp fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them that was entirely for show. “These are only the prerequisite conditions on which I will sell him, you understand,” he said. “When they are met, I will name a price for you. You have a fortnight to think over these conditions; I will withdraw my right to sell him after that.” 

“He isn’t a  _ slave,  _ he can think for himself! Tell them!” The Red Paladin roared. 

All eyes turned to Blue, expectant.

He weighed his options. If he spoke his true wishes, asked for the Paladins to take him away in front of the masters, he knew the Voltron Paladins would stop at nothing to take him back. Their postures, the fiery determination in all their eyes attested to it. And they would do it-- _ could _ do it, too. They had the man and firepower. 

But the moment Blue leaves the planet, the Tarfis masters would undoubtedly retaliate. Declare war. Asher, in particular, would not rest until his property was returned to him and now, he had all of his father’s resources at his fingertips.

Blue did not want more pain and suffering, not for the innocent people that would inevitably be caught up in this. 

When Blue made no visible effort to speak, the Red Paladin nearly broke his hand on the table for a second time that day. 

“Lance!” 

_ (No. No. No!) _

Visions of years past blinked into existence before his eyes, of velvety beds and shadowed faces. Of thick, cloying smells that tried to mask the scent of sex and sweat, but never exactly managing to. The images swirled and moved onto deeper memories, on to dark rooms and endless pain. Clinking chains and hard light bars. A prison. 

Lance was a word--

_ (Name.) _

\--that was taught to him as a means of submission, back when he was still free and free-spirited. The word brought him to his knees, breathless, heart thudding in his chest as time slowed to a crawl. People were getting to their feet, yelling, but it was as if Blue was underwater, the noise distorted extensively to something indecipherable. 

Someone touched his shoulder and he almost wrenched away due to a knee-jerk reaction; at the last moment, his body remembered to still itself, to let the contact happen. The word may have forced submission into his body, but it didn’t take away his impulses, his instinct, his fear. 

He half-remembered a baton, raised high above his head as it came down on him, again and again, breaking skin and shattering bone. 

_ “Lance,” _ someone had once said and that baton became a lance, skewering him through the shoulder, the palms of his hands, the delicate bones of his feet. Again and again, lancing him through without damaging major organs, but ravaging and maiming him regardless.  _ “Lance. Lance.”  _

He had been broken and remade.

_ (Lance had--days, weeks, years ago--buried himself in the graveyard of his own mind, the shattered remnants of his heart giving rise to Blue.) _

Blue looked up at the masters, expression docile and sweet. 

“How may I serve you today?”

#  **\--**

Blue was released from his obedience thrall by an enthusiastic Asher, who was more than pleased to deliver a kiss to Blue’s lips in front of everyone before ushering him back to the General Segundo’s home post haste. The usual retinue of slaves were missing, as were the guards--probably all with the General Segundo now, wherever he was. It was a ghost of a house now, the only few left were the ones that belonged to Asher. 

Ahna came rushing into the foyer to greet Asher, looking completely frazzled. 

“Master,” she said breathlessly. “Welcome home.” 

Asher grinned at her triumphantly and said something in response, but Blue wasn’t listening. 

He had come back here. He hadn’t been allowed to go with the Voltron Paladins, the metaphorical vice that Asher had on him too firm and uncompromising, though in part it had been his own fault. He couldn’t risk disobedience. He couldn’t risk a whole planet, a whole galaxy that would inevitably be forced into something so trivial. 

“--worked out better than I ever imagined! Though those old codgers wanted me to just hand Blue over blindly. As if I’d do something as stupid as that.” He grinned, stroking Ahna’s face and kissing her cheek. “Tell me there’s dinner; after that fiasco, I am  _ starved. _ ”

She blustered for a moment before saying: “Yes, but the cook is no longer here. If you don’t mind a simple dinner, then I can have one prepared for you immediately.”

Asher laughed and tugged at Blue’s hand. “That will do,” he said. “Blue will dine with me. We’ve had an eventful day and he hasn’t eaten since this morning.” 

Ahna nodded and scurried off, presumably to the kitchens. 

“I should bathe,” Blue said, watching as Ahna turned the corner. “And get a change of clothes.” 

Asher smiled, his eyes traveling down Blue’s form and back up again appreciatively, the heat in his gaze unmistakable. “I didn’t get to enjoy you wearing this. Indulge me.” 

Blue nodded and let Asher lead him into the dining room. 

Asher made a beeline for the chair at the head of the table, glee naked upon his face. This day was clearly all Asher had ever dreamed about. 

A slave, Kerr, came bearing a small plate of fruit. He laid it out upon the table, bowed and lowered his eyes, demure and shy as a fawn. “Master,” he murmured, sweet and obedient, the paragon of an ideal slave in Tarfisian culture. 

“That will be all for now,” Asher said, dismissing Kerr with a small wave of his hand. The focus he had on Blue was so fierce that it was nearly a physical pressure, pushing against Blue’s skin in a way that if he still had hair on his limbs, would have made them stand on end. Blue looked away, unable to take the intensity. 

“Sit with me.” Asher pulled Blue into his lap and after selecting carefully from the plate of fruit, he picked out a ripe looking torberry, holding it up to Blue’s lips. 

It was succulent and juicy, flavors bursting inside of Blue’s mouth when he ate from his new Master’s fingers. He chewed mechanically and swallowed, throat nearly seizing and rejecting the fruit.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Asher mused, mostly to himself than to Blue. He fed Blue some more pieces of fruit, his smile indulgent and fond all at once. 

Before Asher could steal a kiss, Ahna came in with dinner. It was as she said; it was a simple meal, but Asher didn’t seem to mind. He ate with abandon, letting Blue take the seat next to him. 

Despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten a full meal all day, Blue’s appetite was wane. He picked at his food, barely managing to down a few bites as his stomach roiled, and finally, he put his utensils aside, done with dinner. 

What would happen after dinner was a certainty down a path that Asher had engineered; he had long since coveted Blue and now, he would finally claim Blue in all the ways he could. There was no mistaken fantasies about what was going to happen; he could only delay the inevitable. 

“A splendid meal,” Asher said when Ahna came by to take the plates. 

She looked at him, all the affection she held for her master evident in the lines of her smile.

Blue wished he could feel the same. 

“And now,” Asher looked over to Blue, eyes keen and eager, “for dessert.” 

His hand travelled up Blue’s thigh, underneath the flimsy white robe. Blue placed his hand over Asher’s, taking a chance in hopes of drawing out the time before he was forced into Asher’s bed. “We cannot enjoy ourselves like this,” he said. 

Asher’s brow furrowed in confusion, then slowly said, as if in a stupor; “What?” 

“This,” Blue replied, gesturing to the paint that covered him. “The taste of it is horrible. I should at least bathe.” 

The paint was indeed a disgusting tasting concoction, though it smelled faintly citrusy, and Blue’s hope hinged on the fact that Asher cared enough about it that he was put off by it. Blue was covered liberally in it, decorated with intricate markings, though parts of it on his wrist and arms had been rubbed away.

Blue held very still as Asher contemplated his words. Ultimately, Asher sighed, squeezed Blue’s thigh and withdrew his hand. “Yes, that is true,” he said, waving Blue away. “Go bathe. I’ll come find you after.” 

“Master,” Blue acknowledged, not at all missing the way Asher’s lips quirked into a pleased grin.

He made his way out of the dining room, doing his best not to run, keeping his gait steady, but the moment he was certain he was out of sight, Blue sprinted to his room. 

He encountered no one on his way there; not entirely unexpected as the whole wing in which the General Segundo housed his personal slaves was empty. Blue’s room was at the very heart of it and his footsteps echoed loudly in the deserted halls.

There was no one around, but he still shut the door, in part because it created an illusion of a barrier between him and Asher. He ripped the jewelry and accessories from his limbs and collapsed onto the overstuffed chair in the corner of his room, an explosive sigh escaping from his lips as he closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness when his eyelids closed him off from the world.

This was the longest day of his life and it would be longer still through the night. He was tired, inexplicably so. The unexpected utterance of  _ that word _ had depleted his energies, mentally and physically, almost as if it had pulled the very life of him from his body. It had been a long time since the word had been used; the General Segundo was confident in his own authority over Blue and felt no need to stoop to using the word in a means to control him. 

“Are you just going to lay there?” 

Blue jumped at the voice. 

At first he couldn’t see anyone in the room with him, but then from the shadows, something shimmered and the Green Paladin appeared. She grinned and tapped at a device at her wrist. 

“Cloaking device.” 

Impressive, Blue thought wryly. Also extremely illegal. 

“Why are you here?” Blue asked, hurrying over to his door to peek outside. There was still no one around, but he could never be too careful. His door didn’t have a lock. 

“Taking you back,” she said, though her eyes were scanning around the room. “Huh. Is this your room? It’s nicer than I thought.” Completely disregarding the looks that Blue was sending her, she flung open the door to the armoire and began to root around in it. 

“You can’t be here,” Blue hissed, rushing to her side. 

The Green Paladin shifted through his clothes, mouth pressed into a thin line as she discarded each piece as if it personally offended her. Finally, she pulled out a navy blue cloak that passed whatever inspection she was imposing upon them and threw it over Blue’s shoulders. 

“You can’t be here either,” she said. 

“You don’t understand,” Blue pleaded. “If anyone else sees you here, they will execute you, Voltron Paladin or not. You have to leave.” 

The Green Paladin took his hand, squeezed it as hard as she could like she was stuffing all her resolution and certainty into the touch, and despite the tremors that ran through her, she smiled. At once, Blue felt the hope that must have breathed in her chest. He wondered what it must be like for her--for the other Voltron Paladins--to find someone that had been missing for so long that they were presumed dead. 

“And you’re coming with me,” she said simply. She let go of his hand, her auburn eyes frighteningly bright with fervor and determination. She was going to do this come hell or high water and Blue realized that he was going to have to be the voice of reason between the two of them. 

“If I go with you like this, sneaking away, Asher will come for retribution. The other masters will too! What you’re doing, essentially, is stealing,” Blue said. “They won’t hesitate to declare war on Voltron or any of its allies. There is a reason why even the Galra Empire, as forceful as they are in their conquest of the known universe, has left Tarfis alone for centuries.” 

“Not anymore. The Galra were here just two days ago,” the Green Paladin huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “If Tarfis can’t stand up to us, they have no hope of standing up to the Galra.” 

That was very much true. Yet, Tarfis was by no means defenseless. Their civilization had held together for thousands of years, almost for as long as the Kingdom of Altea had been presumed gone. They had built up their defenses, armies and battalions, fleets of ships to defend against invaders; the Tarfis-Nebulae Federation was not just Tarfis, but a coalition of all planets that resided in the same galaxy as Tarfis. The trades in slaves weren’t just for pleasure, but for knowledge and science. As backwards as some parts of Tarfis was, it was at the forefront of the free universe in terms of an advanced civilization. Tarfis had long since prepared for the Galra Empire’s assault. 

It was just...they didn’t want to do anything, as far as Blue could tell. They asked for Voltron’s help instead. 

Blue wasn’t sure what that meant. 

“Come on,” the Green Paladin said. “Let’s go.” 

It was the many hours spent dreading in the silence of his room that had attuned Blue’s ears to the sound of heavy robes brushing across the slick, stone hallway floors. He only just managed to push the Green Paladin under his bed with a quick ‘shh!’ when his door opened and Asher strode in. 

He glanced at the mess of clothes around the room, an eyebrow quirked in question, though the look on his face was of fond adoration. “What’s all this?” he asked. 

Heart hammering in his ears, Blue turned to Asher. “I had simply thought that I should select a suitable...outfit to wear tonight after my bath,” he said. He tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure that it came across, as his face felt frozen in terror. 

No one, unless given explicit permission, was allowed in Blue’s room. In the state that Asher was in, if he found the Green Paladin hiding in here, heads would roll. 

What was she even thinking, coming here? She’d get them both killed at this rate. 

“How considerate,” Asher said airily, stepping close to Blue. He touched the cloak that the Green Paladin had thrown over his shoulders. “And what is this?” 

“I was cold,” Blue replied. That was a plausible excuse, as he wasn’t wearing very much at all. 

Asher made a humming sound as he flicked the coat off of Blue’s shoulders like it personally offended him, letting it drop to the floor in a crumpled heap. “Why don’t we go take a bath together?” he asked, pitching his voice low. He was practically pressing himself up against Blue, his mouth inches away from Blue’s own. “The water will warm you right up,” he purred. “And I can wash you off.” 

Blue looked away, pretending at being coy by picking up the discarded coat on the floor. “Lovely,” he said, echoing Asher’s purr. “And enticing. But why rush? We have the night.” He pressed a hand to Asher’s cheek, gentle and soft as a lover would, before maneuvering over to the door. “Patience will make the experience all the sweeter,  _ Master.” _

At first, Blue wasn’t sure if Asher would take the bait. But then he laughed. 

“A slave dismissing his master?” Asher grinned. “The things I let you get away with! Oh, I love that about you. It’s been so long since I’ve heard your true voice, when it isn’t drowned in fear of my father.” He snaked his arm around Blue’s waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another. Even through the mountain of fabric that Asher wore, Blue could feel Asher’s hardness press against his stomach, and he knew that despite his words, Asher was impatient. “Tonight is a celebration for the both of us. My father is gone and finally, we can join together as one.” He kissed a stripe down Blue’s neck and then drew back, making a face. “All this after a bath.” 

“The paint is vile, Master,” Blue said. “The sooner I bathe, the sooner the night can begin.” 

“Yes, sooner,” Asher echoed, a pleased smile upon his face. “And if you wish to choose an outfit that pleases me, I like the black and blue one over there. It accentuates all the right parts of you.” 

“As you wish, Master,” said Blue. 

Asher groaned as he left, moving back down the halls. “Hearing that from your lips...you will be the death of me,” he muttered. 

When Asher was truly gone, Blue shut the door and dove to look under his bed. The Green Paladin had been entirely too quiet--good, because that was the whole point of hiding, but bad because there was a feeling in his gut that told him the Green Paladin was a troublemaker of unparalleled caliber. 

There was no one under his bed. 

He reached out, just in case it was the Green Paladin’s cloaking device that was shielding her from view, but she truly wasn’t there. Somehow, in the short amount of time he had spent distracting Asher, she had...disappeared. 

Or was he simply imagining that she was here? 

Blue sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

What was he doing? With Asher practically salivating at him from just a hallway away, Blue couldn’t afford to be distracted tonight. He should go bathe, as he said he would. 

“That was really gross.” 

Blue nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice. 

The Green Paladin materialized out of the air, glaring at the closed door. She was in the corner of the room, crouched with her hand on a glowing green weapon--a bayard. 

“We can’t wait around, come on, we have to get going,” she hissed. “If he comes back again, we’re going to be toast.” 

“That’s why you should go,” Blue said. “If you head out the back door in the kitchens, you should arrive at the greenhouse. You can leave quietly through the gate around there.” 

She frowned at him. “You’re coming too,” she said. 

“The Princess Allura is working on negotiations to obtain my contract legally, no? Do not waste her efforts here.” 

The Green Paladin made a small, frustrated noise. “Are you blind? I’ve just met the guy today and I know he’s never going to give you up. Don’t be stupid. Just come with me.” Then, her expression changed, stricken. Her voice went an octave higher as she asked, voice incredulous: “Do you want to stay?” 

Blue couldn’t answer her. 

“What was that about then? This afternoon when you told us that you wanted us to take you from here. Was that a lie?” 

Her eyes shone bright, glassy with unshed tears. She blinked hard to dispel them. 

“No, that wasn’t a lie,” he said and it was he that grabbed for her hand this time, holding onto the one that wasn’t gripping the bayard. “But if I came with you now, Voltron would be painted villains and I would be the start of a new war. Voltron stands for freedom against Galra rule and if you fought against the Tarfisians, you’d be seen as a vigilantes at best and not the heroes you are.” He begged her to understand, clutching at her gloved fingers. 

She stared at him and then slowly, she began to smile. “Still thinking of us,” she said quietly. “I knew you weren’t lost in there.” Her face hardened, her resolve written all over her face. “And for the very same reasons that you’ve tried to convince me to leave you here, I have to take you back. Stop fighting me about this. We’re leaving and if you make me lug your unconscious ass out of here, so be it.” She waved her bayard at him threateningly. “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.” 

“Did you not hear what I said or are you just thick--”

“Since you don’t remember me, the name’s Katie. But most people just call me Pidge.” 

Pidge grinned and tugged the cloak back over Blue’s shoulders. “I’m here to break you out whether you like it or not. You’re coming home.” 

Blue sighed and did his beast to quail his shivering heart. The words he wanted to hear for so long, longer than he could conceivably remember, being uttered so nakedly and determined brought tears to his own eyes. He wanted to go, so desperately--

“The consequences--” he said, numb, but Pidge cut him off again. 

“Fuck the consequences,” she said, threading their fingers together as she pulled at him, leading the way out of his room and into the hall. “Fuck the Tarfisians. I’m taking you home.”

#  **\--**

It was heart pounding and sweat inducing; traveling through the General Segundo--no, through  _ Asher’s _ \--household undetected, even with a fraction of the original inhabitants, was challenging. Pidge could have made it by herself with her cloaking device, but it didn’t work for two people. 

They made it all the way to the kitchen before discovering that there were people there. The back door was opened, letting in a soft evening breeze, a teasing prospect of freedom just out of reach. 

“Be ready,” whispered Pidge, pressing a button on a small holoscreen that displayed the layout of the mansion. Pidge’s bayard was secured at her side. The whole time, she hadn’t let go of Blue’s hand, as if she feared that he might change his mind and return to his room, leaving her with a failed mission. 

Blue bit down on his lip to stop himself from asking what she was about to do when she pulled him down only to lift him over her shoulder in a carry. He was surprised into silence and stillness as the lights in the kitchen and surrounding rooms all went down, plunging everyone into darkness. There was a shimmer around them as the cloaking device was activated.

_ (Always been smart and strong, this girl. The best girl.) _

Pidge took that as her chance to move, dodging around the frantic people in the kitchen as they rushed to see why the lights had gone off. There were backup generators in place; if something should happen, power should have redirected instantly. It wasn’t--everything was just a perpetual black. 

Blue could only hope that no one noticed the shadow that crossed the threshold of the door and onto the garden path. 

“Where do I go?” he heard Pidge ask. 

She wasn’t slowing down, her grip on him like iron as she jogged down the path towards the greenhouse. 

“I’m not going to run away,” he said. 

“Just tell me where to go,” she gritted through her teeth. “We can’t be dilly dallying around here. It’s too open and I don’t know if my cloaking device will hold up with the extra volume. It was made to hide me, specifically, not me and someone else.”

They arrived at the greenhouse, a giant dome made of the most expensive clearglass crystal in the galaxy. A bioscanner secured the only entrance. Lining the dome was a fence, tall and looming, colored in a dark grey paint. Spikes lined the top of it in a gothic flourish. 

“Go through the gate. It shouldn’t be locked from this side.” 

She did as he said and it wasn’t until that the gate had firmly slid back into place did Pidge finally let him back down onto his feet. She may be shorter than Blue, but she was stronger than he thought she was. 

“The Green Lion’s at the place from this morning,” she said. 

Blue nearly balked on his first step outside. “At the amphitheater? Are you crazy?” 

Pidge shrugged. “It was the only place that had enough space and was open air. Besides, I parked it there this morning in case the party went wrong. It wasn’t like I planned this.” She said it all as if it were something rational. 

They moved through the streets with Blue leading them through the lesser used alleyways, dodging around curfew patrols as they moved slowly to the amphitheater. It was several minutes away by vehicle, but on foot, it seemed to be a lifetime. 

Blood rushed in his ears, his heart thudding a mile a minute in his chest as they weaved through the streets. It was cold out, the cloak that he had hardly protecting him from the temperature as it was partly ornamental and less utilitarian. His legs were still bare and the sandals he wore weren’t helping. They weren’t made for running and he was certain that his feet were cut up from the way they kept stinging; he refused to look down at them even when all he wanted to do was assess the damage. 

“The doors are closed,” Pidge muttered as she pressed against one of the giant entranceway gates. “Damn it. Locked.” 

“Backway,” Blue said, tugging her away and towards the back lot that he entered in from in the morning. It wasn’t locked yet for the night and Blue quickly ushered her in. He could hear the clanking footsteps of a guard patrol nearby. 

They made it into the darkened halls that led out into the pit when voices could be heard. 

There were others here. 

“--alarm’s been sounded at the General Segundo’s home,” one of them was saying. “Apparently, one of the pets is missing.” 

Guards. Ambivalent ones. 

“One of these days, I’ll own a pet too. Not one of those skinny things everyone seems to favor, but one with some definition. I like them meatier in the rump.” 

The guards laughed as they walked by near where Pidge and Blue were hiding, crouching in the shadows. 

Finally, when they left, Pidge pulled Blue with her as she dashed around the edges of the pit. The air in the unoccupied area of the amphitheater wavered and then the form of the Green Lion came into view. How anyone could have not walked into that during the day was a mystery to Blue; it was huge, a giant machine that was made to render armies asunder. 

It stood tall, almost higher than the walls that surrounded the place, and it was in crouching position, its mouth open and to the ground as they dashed for the entrance. 

“Hold!” 

Blue’s head snapped up at the noise as a squad of guards appeared in the stands of the amphitheater. These wore the liveries of the General Primero and it looked like they had been in waiting for quite some time. He would have frozen to the spot if Pidge hadn’t continued to yank at his arm, pulling him frantically and doggedly towards the Green Lion. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Stop!” 

Shots rang out as the guards fired. A beam of energy nearly caught Blue in the head, just barely grazing the tip of his hair. It fizzled, burnt. 

“Get in!” Pidge roared, bodily hauling Blue into the Green Lion’s opened mouth, lifting him clear off his feet when she did so. The entrance slammed shut behind them, though the blasts from the guards’ weapons still rang loud against the metal. 

She led them to the cockpit where she quickly strapped into the pilot’s chair. The machinery around her hummed to life, panels and keyboards flicking on with a single touch of her deft fingers. 

“There isn’t a second chair,” she said, “and this is going to be kind of bumpy. Better hang on tight.” The grin on her face was manic and it made Blue grip onto the back of her pilot chair all the harder. 

She didn’t lie about the fact that it was a bumpy ride; she failed to mention that it was terribly spinny and that they’d be pursued all the way out into the stratosphere. A contingent of guards followed them up, their cannons firing liberally the whole way. Each blow that landed rocked the Green Lion, even when Pidge did her best to dodge out of the way. 

The Green Lion was just too large of a target. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not going back there,” Pidge said. “I would die first before letting you go.” 

“Please don’t say that,” Blue gritted through his teeth. “I don’t want to be responsible for that.” 

“Hah! Well then, hang on!” 

She pressed a few buttons and a panel slid out. “Alright, girl, let’s give this a whirl.” Pidge clapped her hands together and rubbed them, almost as if she was giving a prayer, but the grin on her face said otherwise. 

The panel that slid out had a shift stick attached to it, one that looked antiquated to Blue’s eyes. And yet, when Pidge grabbed it and pushed, there was a very distinguishable speed boost as it got them out of the atmosphere and into space in the span of a second, leaving behind the contingent of guards who were desperately still trying to chase after them. 

“Next stop, the Castle of Lions,” Pidge pronounced proudly. 

Blue’s grip on the back of her seat only tightened further when the distant image of a white warship came up on the display. Flutterbugs were flying in his stomach and he couldn’t help but gulp audibly at the sight. Why was he so nervous? 

_ (He dreamed of empty white halls, a long, long time ago. He never identified where those halls belonged to, but now...now…) _

A red square suddenly appeared on the display, flashing acrimoniously. 

“Oh,” said Pidge and it was like all the wind in her sails had suddenly deflated. She glared at the square, but did nothing to dismiss it. Instead, she ignored it and continued a beeline towards the castle.

“What is that?” Blue asked. 

“Nothing,” she said as they approached one of the five tall spires that decorated the castle. 

A large, hangar door opened and Pidge flew the Green Lion in more gracefully than he had thought she could. They landed with minimal bouncing, almost none if he was honest, and transitioned easily into artificial gravity. The door closed behind them and somewhere, Blue heard the clang of the entrance opening.

Pidge got out of her chair, smiling. Her eyes were nearly feverish with delight and elation as she rushed at Blue, clasping her arms around him with all her not-so-inconsiderable might. 

“Oh my god,” she murmured against his collarbone. “Oh my god.” The words spilled from her lips on repeat, as if all the vocabulary she had ever learned had vanished from her mind, the only thing she could say was the litany of: “Oh my god.” 

Though her armor made it awkward, Blue slowly raised his hands to wrap around her shoulders. It was as much as it was him giving comfort as he was receiving it. He stroked her hair and held her.

“I’m here,” he said. He could see the inside of the hangar through the display. It looked nothing like the richness of his dwellings in Tarfis.

He could feel the curve of her lips against the skin of his cheek and then she gave him one last squeeze before dislodging herself from his limbs. Her eyes were rimmed with red, though she was dry-eyed. She sniffled one last time and then beamed, offering out a hand. 

“Come on,” she said. “Shall we?” 

Blue looked from her to her outstretched hand and took it, feeling the beginnings of a smile blossoming on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm headed off to bootcamp! I don't know what the conditions will be like, but hopefully I'll be able to find some time to write during down times or something. I'm surprised and shocked at the positive reception. Thanks everyone! :)


	3. Chapter 3

The moment their feet hit the floor, a screeching alarm went off on the speakers, impossibly loud and terrifyingly sudden, making Blue jump a foot into the air. Pidge made a face, but steadfastly tugged Blue along with her as she moved through the castle.

“What’s that?” Blue practically had to shout to be heard over the noise.

“I have to go report to the bridge,” was Pidge’s answer.

Slowly, Blue came to the realization of why Pidge was hurrying him along, why she had been the one to infiltrate Asher’s household. Why she had been alone and didn’t even once attempt to contact any of the other Voltron Paladins. The little red blinking light that she ignored on the display in the Green Lion.

“You acted on your own?!”

“No! Of course not!” Pidge looked away at that, eyes sliding to the ceiling for the briefest of moments. “Hunk covered for me, kind of. Besides, my mission was a success and now we can get out of this quadrant of the universe. I hate it here.”

They rounded the corner into an area that was clearly not the bridge; if anything, it was a long hallway the color of plated silver with a line of doors set in precise distances from each other. Personal quarters, Blue thought, as Pidge opened the farthest one on the right.

The inside was a mess of hardware, tools, and small bits of machinery; papers with formulas and diagrams scribbled onto them were thrown and stuck on the corresponding apparatus in a haphazard fashion. There was a bed, though that looked like it had been overtaken by pillows and the blanket was a rumpled mess half hanging off the mattress. On the floor, there was a cup of water and a half-eaten bowl of goo.

This was clearly Pidge’s room.

There was a collection of pictures taped onto the wall, just above the disorganized looking workstation. Some were clearly of Pidge’s family, her with someone that looked remarkably similar to her--a sibling--

_(Matt, wasn’t it?)_

\--and there was a group photo of them too, one that was obviously from years ago. Her hair was long, then. The newer photos, orbiting around the familial ones, were all of the Voltron Paladins. They looked happy in them, smiling and grinning. They looked very different from what Blue remembered of them from Tarfis, angry and sullen.

He was in the collection of pictures too. It was strange to see himself, so carefree looking. So happy.

He envied this version of himself a bit. People cared about him, cared enough about him to go great lengths to bring him home. To even possibly wage a war because of him. Not only that, but he had previously been a _hero._ A Paladin of Voltron, the legendary defender of the universe. He gave people hope. How did he come so far away from that? What had happened for him to end up in Tarfis of all places?

“Stay here until I come for you,” said Pidge. “Don’t go wandering. The bathroom is over there and if I don’t come back soon, feel free to make yourself at home. Sleep if you want. The bed’s a bit messy, but I swear I cleaned the sheets and stuff yesterday.”

She turned to move back through the door, but just before making that last step, she glanced at Blue.

“Don’t disappear again,” she said and then let the door slide shut, leaving Blue alone.

It took several more moments for the loud, infuriatingly deafening siren to turn off. Blue wasn’t entirely sure what he should do here, besides wait for Pidge to return.

Now, in the aftermath of the escape, exhaustion hit him like a freight transport. His bare legs were cut up from the running, his toes were bleeding, and the sandals that were still strapped to his feet practically in tatters. The sandals had mostly been for decoration, to emphasize his slender legs and make him look more appealing. They probably cost more than what Blue was worth. It was ruined beyond repair now, the delicate gold now a burnished black.

A quick glance around the small room revealed that there was no first aid kit, at least not one that was immediately visible. He didn’t want to rummage through Pidge’s things and even though he had been invited to, he felt a deep schism run through him at the idea of using her things.

If he was still back on Tarfis, he would have been expected to stand at attention, waiting for his master to return. It was a game that the General Segundo liked to play with him early on, making Blue wait, standing for hours with no food or rest or break, just standing in silent, lonely, humiliating torture. He almost always broke, except for the times when someone shared in the punishment him. Usually, it had been Asher, muzzle slapped over his face like a dog for the verbal impudence he would barrage his father with.

It must have been those times that had developed and deepened Asher’s infatuation with him.

Blue sucked in a breath and held it in his lungs. He wasn’t on Tarfis anymore.

He was hesitant to believe that he was free. Would the masters influence spread so far? Would they really dare to demand him back?

Pidge seemed more than ready to take on any of the Tarfisians. He didn’t doubt that any of the other Paladins would either; the Red Paladin especially seemed brash and reckless enough, at least that was the impression Blue got from the short meeting they had earlier in the day.

Blue pressed his back against the wall and slid to the floor, tucking his legs under him.

The floor was practically icy against him and he shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he huddled in the silence, a myriad of emotions and thoughts running through him.

Doubt gnawed at him. Guilt chased his conscience. Fear fell on him like a blanket of sleet, making him chilled and hot all at the same time. He was shivering and yet, his blood was boiling and he was sweating.

What if the Paladins returned him to Asher? There was no way that Asher wouldn’t demand him back, especially since the squad of guards had spotted him and Pidge. He couldn’t blame Pidge for it though; he had made the decision to go with her, to leave.

His teeth chattered and the headache from earlier came back tenfold, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples in an attempt to soothe it didn’t help matters at all.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, huddled against the wall like that. Everything hurt until it didn’t anymore, until he went numb and his thoughts began to spiral together into an incomprehensible train in which one was indistinguishable from the other.

At some point he had fallen into an exhausted slumber because in between worrying his head off and dreaming of a sandy white beach, a loud clatter of noise jarred him awake.

“--Pidge, you did not--”

“--weren’t going to do anything! So I did it!”

“We’re a team! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“It’s not like you could have sneaked him out!”

“Like you did that great of a job! You realize that you got an entire star system mad at us, right?”

“Yeah, like you care so much about that, _Keith.”_

The door opened and Blue shot to his feet, dazed and confused. He had expected Asher to walk through the door, but what was on the other side were the Voltron Paladins, all still wearing their armor and looking noticeably harried. Conversation between them conspicuously ceased. They stared at Blue, who stared back.

It was the Yellow Paladin that broke through, his eyes watering as he ran at Blue, arms thrown wide.

“It’s you, oh my god, it’s _you, I can’t_ \--” he was practically sobbing by the time he had his arms wrapped around Blue. Blue couldn’t even reach around to awkwardly pat the man on the back, his arms pinned to his side by the embrace. The best he could do was press his head against the Yellow Paladin’s own from where he had his face buried against Blue’s neck. It was minor, but the only comfort he could give because--

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know who you are.”

The Yellow Paladin froze. Then, he squeezed Blue tighter for just a moment before stepping back, letting go. His eyes were red and tears were still falling from them, his mouth pressed into an unhappy line.

“I know,” said the Yellow Paladin. “Pidge explained.”

“Yeah, and I can see you still haven’t showered.” That was Pidge and she shouldered past the Red and Black Paladins. The two had stayed on the fringes, just beyond the room as if they were outsiders, unable to intrude into Pidge’s space. The Yellow Paladin clearly had no such reservation. “Come on, we’ll show you to your old room. You can come socialize with the rest of us when you’re clean.”

“I think he might need a trip to the infirmary first,” the Black Paladin interrupted. He was eyeing Blue’s feet with a critical eye. “Those must be painful.”

Blue almost squirmed in place as everyone’s eyes went to his legs, but he was too well-trained to physically move; he absolutely hated that what he wore displayed his legs so brazenly. The General Segundo had a strange fetish for his legs; he was different from most of the enslaved species on Tarfis and none of them had legs like his. Having and owning beautiful things meant showing them off and the amount of times Blue had been paraded around like an insouciant accessory brought to mind the many repressed memories of touches that stayed too long and hands that took too many liberties.

“Come on.” The Black Paladin’s smile was soft, his words quiet as if he were speaking to a wounded animal. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

_(Why were they all treating him like he was made of glass? He wasn’t. He survived this long, from captivity in prison to slavery; he was hardly delicate. Besides, once upon a time, he endured worse, seen worse. He had seen Zarkon’s cruelty first hand.)_

Blue went to the Black Paladin wordlessly. He didn’t miss the look the others sent him or the looks that they exchanged behind his back.

They went as a group to the infirmary, the Paladins communicating amongst themselves with a flurry of hand movements and glances that made no sense to Blue. The Black Paladin led the way, ignoring the other three. The silence was confusing; Blue didn’t know what to think other than the fact that perhaps he was treading on thin ice. He felt that he had already misstepped earlier with the Yellow Paladin by admitting he didn’t remember him.

When they finally got to the infirmary, Blue was asked to sit on the exam table while the Black Paladin searched the cabinets for healing supplies.

It seemed that was more than what the Red Paladin could endure and he stomped up to Blue, a determined look on his face.

“Look, no one wants to say it, but--”

The Black Paladin glared, snapping sharply: _“Keith!”_

“--how do we know that you’re really who you say you are? The Lance that we know would never had--”

_(Why would you do this? No. No!)_

His body went into autopilot as he slipped off the table and onto the floor, getting down onto his knees to look up at the Red Paladin, who had stopped ranting to stare in horror, his already pale face getting paler.

“How may I serve you today?”

The words tumbled from his lips automatically without his permission.

“Goddamn it, Keith!” Pidge screamed, elbowing the Red Paladin out of the way. He shrank back, colliding straight into the Yellow Paladin’s chest. They both looked alarmed. “Why did you have to do that?”

She knelt down to shake Blue’s arm, as if that would break him out of his obedience thrall. “Snap out of it,” she said.

He couldn’t ‘snap out of it,’ as she commanded. Instead, Blue’s brain conjured up all sorts of terrible alternatives to ‘snap out of it’ and one caught against the net of the thrall to come spilling out of his mouth.

“How would you like me to ‘snap out’ my arm?” he asked, offering up up the arm her hand was on.

“No! No, don’t do that, don’t hurt yourself!” Pidge drew back, shocked, before shaking her head and barrelling forward. “Tell me how to change you from this state.”

Blue thought hard, practically yelling the answer in his mind until the obedience thrall found an answer that was acceptable.

“If it would please you, Master, this slave would like a kiss.”

Pidge’s eyebrows rose up into her hairline. “So _that_ was what this was about,” she muttered before leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his. It was so quick, it could hardly be called a kiss, more akin to a light punch, with the way she darted forward. It hurt from where his lips mashed against his teeth.

But it did the trick and Blue found he could breath normally again. He sagged, angry and embarrassed, but unable to muster any energy to stand up.

Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him up off the floor to settle onto the exam table once again.

“I think we should give him a bit of space,” said the Black Paladin. Though his words were polite, his tone was sharp and biting. “Why don’t you guys go shower and get changed? We’ll meet up in the kitchen later.” It was a clear dismissal if Blue had ever heard one.

The Red Paladin gulped, clearly shaken. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered, doing an about face and practically fleeing from the room. The Yellow Paladin followed suit, but not before casting one last glance at Blue. Pidge was the last one out, though she was staring at the Black Paladin and not Blue.

“We’ll be fine,” the Black Paladin said. “Go.”

She nodded and then retreated too, scampering away quietly like a mouse.

The Black Paladin sighed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “First, let’s get these off of you.” He indicated to the sandals, grimacing.

Parts of the thin straps had cut into Blue’s skin and was stained red, stuck to him in places. “I’ll have to cut them off. Let me know if I hurt you.”

Blue nodded, unable to trust his mouth to speak. The Black Paladin worked quickly and efficiently, snipping away the ribbons that laced around his calves with a pair of surgical scissors. When he finally dislodged the last of it, he tossed the ruined sandals into the bin without a thought. Blue didn’t make a noise through it, though he felt the tug of congealed blood pulling against the cloth.

The Black Paladin frowned after he got the sandals off. “I hope this paint isn’t toxic,” he said, returning to the cabinets. He retrieved a wet white cloth from a sealed bag. It smelled slightly fragrant to Blue and when the Black Paladin started to wipe down Blue’s legs with the cloth, it stung something fierce.

Blue must have made some sort of noise because the Black Paladin looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just a little longer and I can put the salve on.” He smiled, a small quirk of his lips. It looked good on him; the Black Paladin was a handsome man, the scar on his face not detracting, but actually seeming to enhance his features. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Shiro.” He worked quickly on cleaning Blue’s legs of the paint and blood. “I guess you know me as the Black Paladin and the leader of Voltron.”

Blue nodded, though he didn’t know if Shiro saw it.

“The Red Paladin was Keith. He didn’t mean...earlier. It was an accident. We’ll do better to avoid your trigger word. He’s not the most sensitive of people, so I apologize for his outburst. We’re still working with him for that.” Shiro huffed a soft breath of laughter at some secret memory. “The Yellow Paladin is Hunk. He...he cares a lot. Probably too much sometimes, but he’s a genuinely good guy. You’d like him. He’s easy to get along with. And I know you met Pidge--she’s a brave girl, although too hot headed and impulsive sometimes. It’s her way of showing that she cares.”

Shiro tossed the stained cloth into the bin, on top of the sandals.

He was frowning and Blue realized Shiro had wiped away most of the paint that covered his calves. Aside from the cuts and scrapes from today, old scars on his skin stood out without anything to disguise them.

“I think,” Shiro said very slowly, “maybe the first order of business should be getting you a bath and get the rest of the paint off.” The expression he leveled at Blue was careful and controlled like a mask, his thoughts and emotions wrapped up tight and unreadable.

Blue nodded again and swung his feet over the exam table.

Just before his toes touched the floor, he found himself being swept up into strong arms, up off the exam table. He blinked, eyes widening. A part of him wanted to squirm out of the hold, but logically, he knew he was in no danger.

Shiro smiled at him, albeit sadly.

“A long time ago, you would have laughed if I did this,” he said. “And you probably would have pretended to be a swooning princess.”

Finally finding his voice, his tongue and throat working again, Blue asked: “Why?”

“To annoy me, probably,” Shiro replied, his gaze far away in a distant memory. “To make me laugh, definitely.”

Shiro brought him into an adjoining bathroom where a sunken bathtub of steaming hot water had already been prepared. Shiro placed him on the top of the first step with all the care of someone handling cracked glass. The hot water skimmed over Blue’s toes, a prickling and biting sensation that sent shivers up his spine.

“I’ll go find you something to wear,” said Shiro, turning away. “I’ll be back.”

He left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Blue standing at the edge of the tub.

Blue shucked off the cloak and the flimsy white robe he wore underneath, throwing them to the side without care. They crumpled in a heap against the tiles, a puddle of navy and white.

He stepped deeper into the water until he hit the bottom; as a bathtub, it was deeper than he imagined it’d be. It was also much larger than a personal tub, enough to fit a whole slew of people in. Why such a bath was in the infirmary, he wasn’t sure, but there were complicated looking buttons built into the side of the wall of the tub. He wasn’t in a particular hurry to figure out what each of the functions did.

Blue settled in, dutifully washing the paint off of himself with the soap and clean sponge he found in the compartment next to the steps into the tub. He had managed to clean most of it off when he heard the door open and saw that Shiro had returned, this time with an armful of clothing and a blue towel.

“Here’s a towel and some...old clothes for you,” he said. “They should still fit.”

“Thank you,” Blue said. “I’ll be finished soon.”

Shiro nodded curtly and retreated, brisk and quiet.

Blue finished scrubbing the last of the paint off as quick as he could, stepping out of the tub and wrapping the large towel that Shiro had brought around his shoulders. It was warm and soft, like it was fresh out of the dryer, and smelled faintly of something herbal. He didn’t dislike it, he decided.

He dressed hurriedly, not wanting to have Shiro wait for him too long. What surprised him when he came out of the bathroom was that Shiro was not there, but instead, it was the retainer, Coran.

Coran smiled. “Hello again!” he greeted Blue brightly, maneuvering him over to the exam table. “Glad you got that gunk off of you, now we can actually treat you for your injuries. Your legs, hmm?”

He didn’t wait for Blue to react, just grabbed his left foot and pushed the pant leg up past Blue’s knee. Coran didn’t bat an eye at the old scars and bruises left on his skin.

“Shiro thought you might need the healing pod, but I think this is minor enough for the curative balm that we’ve got!” The older man fussed and fretted in a flurry of over exaggerated movements as he applied some sort of clear looking gel over the injuries. When he was done with both of Blue’s legs and feet, he patted Blue on top of his knee.

“Anything else?” he asked. “Shiro mentioned he might have seen bruising and scars on your back.” His tone was light and gentle, a subtle question for permission.

“I’ll be fine,” Blue replied. “Nothing I can’t heal on my own.”

Coran wriggled his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he asked. He grabbed a clean wet cloth. “Because this Altean curative balm works wonders!” He swiped the cloth over Blue’s legs, cleaning off the gel he had just slathered on moments ago. There was nothing there of the cuts and scrapes from tonight; just newly healed skin that looked like it had never been broken. “See?”

Coran puffed out his chest proudly.

It was so ridiculous, so bizarre. Tarfis had nothing like this. Blue wriggled his toes, felt no pain, and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I do see.”

Coran grinned and held the jar of gel up. “So? Anywhere else that you’ve got pain in that needs some fixing?”

“It’s nothing life threatening, and they’ve already been cleaned,” Blue said. “I’m fine, really. Thank you.” He made a show of wriggling his toes again and then inspecting his feet.

Coran hummed a note, fondness in his gaze. “These are for you.”

A set of blue slippers were procured from somewhere and settled onto the exam table next to Blue. They had large, silly looking lions on them, and bits of it looked fuzzy and worn. It must have been his, once.

Blue picked them up, inspecting them. He wondered if there were expectations of him just for putting them on. Deciding that they were just slippers and not some sort of extension of distorted hope, Blue put them on. They were soft and well-loved and fit his feet perfectly, right down to the faint imprinted remnants of a heel and arch.

Coran was smiling, eyes too bright and mustache twitching.

“I suppose you’re--you’re alright now,” he said, fumbling his words. “The other Paladins are waiting for you in the kitchen, I believe. If you follow this hallway all the way down and take the first right, you can’t miss it.” Coran waved around at the infirmary. “I’ll be up there shortly. I’ve got to clean up this mess!”

There was no real mess to clean up, not that Blue could tell, but he nodded.

“Thank you,” Blue repeated and hoped that Coran truly knew the sincerity behind his words. He offered Coran a small smile and got off the exam table with a hop. As he left, he didn’t look back, just opening the door and having it shut behind him, letting the older man mend his fractured heart in peace.

#  **\--**

“--not anything like the person we knew--”

“--isn’t saying that’s not a possibility, but it’s been _years--”_

“--can’t just base things off of what we _knew,_ we have to have new fact--”

The kitchen doors opened into a chaotic, tense scene. Around the table, three of the five occupants are standing on their feet, yelling at one another. Of all the people there, only Princess Allura was still in her battle suit, hair beginning to come out of the bun it was held in. She was sitting, a hand pressed over her forehead, seeming to ignore the ongoing furor in front of her.

On the other side of the table, the Yellow Paladin--Hunk, Blue’s mind supplied--was also sitting, his mouth pressed into a sullen line. He was the only one to look up when the door opened, his expression blank as a wall.

One by one, the others abruptly quieted.

Keith sat down so hard, the chair underneath him made a clattering, groaning noise when he collided with it.

Princess Allura looked up, tired and spent. She looked like she had gone all evening fighting ten rounds with multiple Galran soldiers and come out on top, but only barely. Nonetheless, she smiled at Blue and gestured him over to her side, where an empty chair stood.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, probably most likely to be polite.

Blue shook his head. He felt self-conscious, even more so than when people stared at his legs, and the sting of out-of-placeness pierced through him harsher than it ever had before.

_(Seriously? This tension was ridiculous. He wasn’t some alien creature.)_

_(Or maybe he was. Jesus H. Christ.)_

“Do you remember anything? From before?” Pidge asked, her tone placid and unassuming. “Anything at all. What you couldn’t say before, when you were...in front of the Tarfisians. You can say to us.”

As if on instinct, the Paladins all perked up at her question. They all wanted an answer, something positive that would identify Blue with the person that they had lost.

Blue shook his head. “I can only remember the Gulag,” he replied. “Before that...I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I might remember, but there’s nothing. It’s like grabbing mist.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed, whether in suspicion or because there was something in them, Blue didn’t care. His vision had suddenly focused on Hunk, who stared back at him, eyes blank and soulless, much akin to a dead fish.

Blue’s heart clenched and wavered at the expression on Hunk’s face; something about his heartbreak drawing a fuzzy, incomplete memory--no, a voice--to the surface of his mind kicking and screaming.

_(Hunk! Buddy, look at me. Look at me! Don’t you give up on me. I’m right here.)_

Blue averted his eyes, not wanting to see the look on Hunk’s face anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Blue said. “I wish I could remember.”

Everyone’s face fell. The temperature in the room plummeted even though Blue knew that nothing of the situation had changed. Just expectations.

“That’s alright,” Princess Allura consoled. “One step at a time. First, we’ll focus on getting out of the particle net--”

“We’ve been trapped?” Blue interrupted, his voice going higher with each word.

“Unfortunately.” Princess Allura glared at the table in front of her, her hand balled into a fist. “We’re not exactly without our own defenses, thank goodness. But Tarfis has been...less than hospitable these past few hours. Relations with them just keep deteriorating.” She made a face. “Not that I care anymore at this point.”

His fear must have shown on his expression because Shiro laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. We’re not going to give you up.”

“Damn right,” Pidge muttered.

Keith frowned, though he kept his mouth shut.

It didn’t matter though--Blue did worry. All of his previous doubts and fears came crashing back down on him now, puncturing through the nervous haze of betrayed expectations.

“Shiro is right,” Princess Allura said, getting up from the table to pace. “The Tarfisians will have to take you back over our dead bodies.” Her eyes held a fierce determination within them, a steel that Blue had never seen before in another person, one that simultaneously pulled admiration and apprehension from his gut. That look was one of stubbornness of spirit and pride in her soldiers. 

Pidge laughed at that. Of all the Paladins at the table, she seemed to be in the best mood.

It might have been because her personal rescue mission was a success. It might have been something else. She was the only one that was truly friendly and receptive to Blue right now and for that, Blue was more grateful than he could express.

Keith was glaring at him.

Hunk’s eyes were a thousand light years away, not really looking at Blue, but past him.

Shiro, as nice as he was, was hidden behind a veneer of precise control. Blue couldn’t read him very well, other than the fact he seemed to be sending vague, wordless signals to Keith every so often, of which the Red Paladin readily ignored.

“Please don’t die on my account,” Blue said, looking down into his lap. The blue lion slippers peeked up at him from under the kitchen table.

“We don’t go down that easy,” Keith grumbled. “No one’s dying any time soon.”

Princess Allura smiled wryly. “Yes,” she said. “Speaking of, we will be taking shifts for watch tonight, just in case the Tarfisians try anything during the night. The Castle’s deployed its shields, but I’d prefer it if someone were to monitor the situation. Does anyone have preference for shifts? They will each be one earth hour long.”

Pidge raised her hand. “I’ll be up anyway. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll take second, then.” Shiro also raised his hand when he spoke.

“Third,” said Keith.

Eyes turned to Hunk, who remained silent. Keith gingerly laid a hand on Hunk's arm, briefly exchanging a muted look with the other man, before withdrawing, some unsaid conversation passing between the two of them.

Blue wondered if he was also expected to take watch too, since he was now an occupant in the castle. He wasn’t sure what he’d actually do if something were to happen, but he would be more than willing to help.

“I can also hel--”

Blue was cut off by Hunk.

“How did you get your name?” Hunk’s expression was pinched, anguish leaking into his voice as he spoke, even though his words were soft and quiet. His focus was entirely on Blue, not even seeming to register what was going on around the table.

“You said you didn’t remember anything. You don’t even remember your own name or who you are. But you have a name now and that name means something. Did someone give it to you?” Hunk pressed.

It was a wildly personal question, in particularly for Blue. His eyes oscillated around wildly before settling on a point beyond Hunk’s right shoulder, knowing that he had to answer the question. It wasn’t until he felt a light stinging that he realized that his hands had balled into fists and his nails were biting into the flesh of his palm.

There were so many things he could say. He could lie, say it meant nothing, but everyone would have seen through that immediately. He could give a half-truth, but he was certain that this was the moment that honesty would not only be appreciated, but needed.

Hunk looked like he craved with a desperate sort of yearning for any morsel of information about his lost friend, whether Blue was all he had left or not.

Honesty, in this case, was hope.

Blue had nothing to give them, the Voltron Paladins. He had brought the Tarfisian armies upon them, had probably even tarnished Voltron’s reputation the moment he stepped foot onto the Castle of Lions. But not only that, he had _failed_ Voltron and the people that sat around the table.

He had once been one of them, but somehow, somewhere along the way, it went wrong.

He had failed as a Paladin.

But hope, he thought, hope was something he could give. It was all he had and he had it in spades.

“I chose the name,” he said. “When I first came into...employment at the Magna bagnio, the Messer allowed me to choose a name as a reward for good behavior. I chose ‘Blue’ because--” he stopped, feeling a terrible lump in his throat. He pushed on, ignoring the cracks in his voice. “Because I dreamed _\--still_ dream--about a blue ocean and a white beach. I’ve never seen this place before, but it felt familiar and tangible to me so somehow, I wanted to hold onto that. That’s why I took it as my name. It felt right, I guess.”

At first, Hunk didn’t seem to respond, just continuing to stare at Blue almost in shock, when his expression slowly turned into a watery smile.

“Yeah,” said Hunk, sniffling. His eyes shone brightly with unshed tears and Blue could tell that Hunk was putting in herculean efforts to not cry again. “Even with your memory wiped, you still want to go home. You haven’t really changed, have you?”

Blue shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know if I have,” he admitted. “But that dream was what comforted me on the worst of days and it was what pushed me to go to the celebrations this morning. I wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

“Whatever it was, be it fate or dreams, I’m glad you went.”

It was Coran that spoke and Blue hadn’t even heard the man step into the room. Coran settled his hands on Blue’s shoulders, squeezing lightly before letting go. “You’re here now,” he said, smile sincere and tender. “You’re back and safe and that is what really counts.”

Shiro responded to Coran, though his eyes were trained on Blue.

“Yeah, he’s right,” said Shiro, a small, tired smile decorating his expression. It looked of genuine muted satisfaction and joy. He reached forward to gently pull Blue’s fingers from digging any further into his palms. “Welcome back, kiddo. Why don’t we show you where your room is? We can all talk more in the morning.”

#  **\--**

Screaming alarms sent Blue jolting out of bed and tumbling to the floor, back ramrod straight against it as he tried to decipher his sleep-muddled thoughts.

The room he was in was not his room. The floor was hard, the armoire was gone, as was his favorite plush chair.

For a moment, he was confused, wondering where he was until the memories of the previous night came rushing back to him all at once. He was on the Castle of Lions with the Voltron Paladins, trapped just outside the planet Tarfis in a particle net.

A clamor of footfalls in the hallway outside had Blue scrambling up, jamming his feet into the blue lion slippers and then following the noise.

He caught a flash of yellow at the end of the hall and quickly followed suit, the alarm overhead bringing his heart to his throat in a panic.

He came to the bridge where the rest of the Voltron Paladins had also gathered, their backs to him as he entered. Princess Allura was glaring harshly at a map that was lit up with many menacing looking red lights upon it.

“If they think they can intimidate us, they are sorely mistaken!” Princess Allura snarled. “Coran! Take the helm, we’re getting out of here and putting this blasted place behind us.”

She stepped down from the navigational post and stilled, her eyes landing on Blue.

Then, as if steeling herself, she smiled and pressed a hand to Blue’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for waking you,” she said. To the others, she roared: “Well? Let’s go!”

That seemed to have the desired effect as the Voltron Paladins scattered and Princess Allura herself went too, presumably to the Blue Lion.

Blue moved next to Coran, a stone settling deep in his stomach as he observed five mechanical lions fly out of the Castle’s spires and into the space before them. They ripped and tore at the particle net, weakening it in strategic places. Beyond it, it was like an armada of ships had assembled, floating in the deep black.

“You don’t need to worry,” said Coran, twisting the end of his mustache. “They’re all exceptional pilots and they know what they’re doing. And besides, we’re here to support them.” He winked at Blue, smiling.

How he could maintain such an unaffected demeanor, Blue didn’t know. Perhaps it was through practice. Nothing could erase from his mind Coran in the infirmary, eyes bright with unshed tears, grinning like a loon. He didn’t want to forget it either; it was a testament to Coran’s character and strength and it would be a disservice to simply write it off.

“What can I do to help?” Blue asked.

“To be honest, nothing much,” Coran answered bluntly. He waved at the screen projecting the ongoing battle just beyond the ship. “We’re just waiting for the Princess to give us the signal to warp out of here.”

Blue raised an eyebrow at the blockade of ships that surrounded them. “Warp through that? Won’t they just follow us if we do?”

Coran made a disgruntled face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he grumbled. “Sometimes, between the five of them, I can’t tell who’s more hotheaded.” Coran eyed Blue as if he was also about to burst out into an angry rant and charge off into a space battle, safety and foresight be damned.

The strangeness of that image tickled him, making him go off in a fit of small giggles and then evolving and crescendoing into full blown laughter. Despite what everyone was telling him, Blue hardly felt like a Paladin. He was just Blue, an amnesiatic slave from Tarfis, nothing more.

When his laughter finally subsided, Coran was watching him with a fond gaze, a smile upon his mouth and twinkle in his eyes. He looked as if he was about to speak when a loud, garbled sound emitted from the overhead display.

Coran went to the controls, fingers moving in a flurry as he tried to determine what was the problem.

“I thought something was strange,” he muttered. “Normally they’re a lot chattier in battle than at mealtimes. There’s a communications jammer in place that’s preventing us from contacting the Paladins and vice versa.”

The noise came again, this time at an almost deafening pitch and Blue’s hands flew to his ears, clamping down. It was a noise that Blue had never heard before, yet it unnerved him greatly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and setting his teeth on edge. He wanted to crawl straight out of his skin at the noise.

Abruptly, the noise ceased.

On the display, a video feed appeared and it was a face that Blue didn’t think he’d see again anytime soon.

“Greetings, Paladins,” the General Segundo purred. “I believe you have something of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaking on to post this. Luckily, I work in googledocs so I only need an internet connection. :P


End file.
